


10.16.2005

by astrothsknot



Series: Imitating Angels [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Gen, OFC - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:10:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrothsknot/pseuds/astrothsknot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What were Sam, Dean, Faith and Lily doing two weeks before the pilot?</p>
            </blockquote>





	10.16.2005

Title: 10.16.2005   
Author: astrothsknot  
Fandom: Buffy/SPN  
Series: Imitating Angels   
Characters: Sam, Lily (OFC), Dean and Faith  
Rating: PG, Gen  
Disclaimer: I don’t own a TV show.  
A/N For Gigglingkat - what were John, Lily, Faith, Dean and Sam doing two weeks before the pilot? John’s isn’t here - he’s getting a whole month to himself in a separate fic. Dean/Faith beta by azephirin

Sam

Fire 

Flames 

Burning

Sam shocks awake and it takes him a minute to realise it’s way-overcooked bacon and toast that’s wafting through the apartment and into his dream. He’d laugh at it, safe in the morning light, but the bright sun has chased the mares away. He’s left with only the impression of the dream. The substance has flown.

“Sam! Breakfast!” 

Jess kisses him as he sits at the table. She tastes slightly sour with morning breath and coffee, but Sam doesn’t care. He’s not much better himself. She sets very crispy bacon and black toast down in front of him. 

“C’mon, honey, you can’t work out on an empty stomach.” She always looks amused when she cooks, like she’s daring him to eat it. 

“That’ll be one good thing about staying here, if I get good LSATs,” Sam says as he reluctantly forks up some toast, smothering it in the egg that’s so undercooked he’s sure a fluffy yellow chick is cheeping around the small kitchen. “I’ll still be on the track team. I won’t have to start from the bottom somewhere else. I won‘t have to find another job, either.”

“Like that would happen. I still think you should get a passport. You could make the Olympic selections if you got some international experience.” Jess turns to go and get coffee when she walks in front of the window, backlit by the sunlight streaming through it.

It halos around her, like she’s aflame and it makes him catch his breath for a moment. She’s beautiful, almost unearthly in that instance as the sound of wing beats swish through the air.

“What is it, Sam? You look like…I dunno, weird.” Jess moves and the moment is lost as the swans fly past the window to the river.

Sam shakes his head, dispelling the image and the feeling of unease that’s crept in. “I guess I’m just nervous about the LSATs, Law School and this championship coming up. If I do international meets then I’m going to have to get another job to fund them and try and work out something with school.”

“But Sam, think about it. Beijing. You’ll never get that chance again.” Jess pours Sam some coffee. He blows on it to hide his little smirk.

He’s got something better than Beijing up his sleeve. Sam saw it in a jeweller’s a month ago when he was running his tri-weekly 10K. He’s been putting something away on it each week and he’s hoping to have it paid for by her birthday in three months’ time.

Yeah, Jess is miles better than Beijing.

Lily

“I can’t see it against those rocks,” says Lily, scanning the side of the hill. “I can see a couple of wolves from the Glory Hill pack, though.”

“See the limp on that big male?” Joe Straydeer, her boss, points at the injured wolf. “I can’t see teeth marks.”

“Maybe he fell or the phantom ibex got him. You want to get a team out here?”

“Nah, cause more harm than good if we got the vet to check him. We’ll see how it goes; maybe get a team out here.” Joe lowers his binoculars, takes his bearings for where they’re supposed to be headed. “I’m telling you, there’s an ibex around here.”

Lily hefts her backpack up onto her shoulders, grimacing at the flare of pain in her hip. “I want some of what you’re smoking.”

“You don’t need anything to smoke. I’ve seen what the doc’s got you on. Get sharing.” Joe heads off over a steep rise, setting a fair pace.

“Fuck off, I need all the help I can get.” It’s an effort and she’s leaning very heavily on her poles, but Lily keeps up with him. “I’ve got a fucking Scary Sleepover this weekend. 20 hyper, spoiled kids and their asshole parents.”

“Terrible shame about that environmental conference in Berkeley. You’ll be freezing your ass off with the hope of the future and I’ll be sunning myself with the lovely ladies of San Francisco.”

“It’s at Stanford, dickhead and just make sure they are ladies.” Lily checks her map. “That rock fall should be a mile over there.”

They walk on in silence for a while, mainly because Lily’s in more pain than she’d like to admit.

“You scared the living shit out the parents last weekend.” Joe says eventually. “This ridge goes over the path.”

“Yeah, but it‘ll be loose from the landslide. And how high were my ratings? They love me.” She snorts. “I give good camp fire.”

“Yeah, you do know how to tell a tale. Maybe if you didn’t you’d be going to Stanford and I’d be telling kids about ghost towns and prospectors.” Joe looks at her for a moment. “Just don’t tell them about Hook-hand Jack again.”

“That’s my best tale!”

“I got a complaint from a parent yesterday. Says she’s been seeing ole Jack in every mirror in the house.” Joe stumbles on the snowy path.

“Damn, more’s fallen than we thought. I think we’ll have to close this trail off and get an engineering team in come spring.” Lily takes some photos of the ruined hillside. “It’s not my fault her kid’s impressionable. They’re warned it’s a Scary Sleepover and not for nervy bastards.”

“No, she’s been seeing Jack. Not the kid. What the hell‘s that then?” Joe’s pointing triumphantly at a tan, stocky goat on the other side of the path.

“It’ll be a goat or deer or someth-oh.” They’re close enough to see the huge curled horns sprouting from its head as the ibex regards them with mild curiosity, before sauntering off into the snowy trees.

Dean and Faith

“Christ! I’m coming! Keep it down!”

The hammering on the door doesn’t stop even as Faith’s opening it. She’s trying hard not to smile as Dean’s standing there, fucking huge teddy bear and a doggie bag from some diner in his arms. The snow’s blowing around him and into the cabin, but neither makes any move for a moment.

“Hey,” he says, shyly, as if he’s unsure of the reception he’s going to get. He’s shivering, even through the army jacket he’s wearing.

“Hey,” she replies, pulling the blanket closer around her, like she’s protecting herself from…something.

“I’m getting cold, Faith. Can I come in?” Dean falsettos as the bear.

“I guess,” she says, trying to sound uninterested, as if guys showing up in the Asscrack of Nowhere in the middle of the night is a regular thing. Actually, around here, it pretty much is. She moves back to let him in the hall. Dean gives an involuntary shiver as he comes into the warmth, nearly the dropping the bear and the food as he tries to pass them to her. 

“Boots off,” she says automatically, even as he’s already doing it. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Dean can hear plates clacking and buttons being pressed on the microwave as Faith reheats the food. “How long will it be?” he calls softly. He’s looking down the hall towards one of the closed doors, with the teddy bear poster on it. Dean takes a quiet, careful step towards it, then another…

“About five minutes,” she replies, appearing in the kitchen door. “Come into the living room.”

Dean follows her into the room with its roaring fire, taking in the new toys and the pile of cardboard, wrapping paper and envelopes next to the fire, the cards proclaiming _Happy 1st Birthday_ and _Now You Are One!_ “He did well?”

“Yeah, he did OK.” Faith picks up the Jennifer Cruise novel she’s been reading, carefully putting the marker in. She’s tense, like she’s waiting for him to start up That Argument again.

Dean simply nods, makes a show of looking at the cards that cover the furniture. For some reason, one in particular catches his eye and he picks it up, recognising the plain writing and the sparse Happy Birthday without a signature. 

The microwave pings and Faith goes to get the food. Dean searches through the pile of envelopes until he finds one that matches the handwriting on the card. It’s postmarked Jericho. There’s a terse note as well, telling Faith to watch her and Ricky’s asses as November 2nd is coming up. Oh, and there’s a thousand bucks in the belly of the rabbit. It’s written in Latin, so it’s not likely that a casual reader would understand and make off with the money.

Dean tosses them on the fire just as Faith comes back through with the plates and cutlery. She’s seen him do it, but says nothing, just hands him his plate with a half smile. “Sit down, you’re making the place look untidy,” she says, trying for casual, but it comes out as choked. Faith’s not the best actress, can’t help but wear her heart on her sleeve.

Dean’s not much better, but he’s got more practice at putting up a front. But Christ, it’s hard with Faith and she’s the one person it shouldn’t be hard with. She’s the one person who actually gets him and this gulf between them is killing him.

“So, what have you been up to?” Dean asks as he sits. He chooses the same sofa as Faith does, but up the other end. He‘s still shocked she let him in, especially after what he‘d said to her the last time he‘d seen her. “Tell me about Ricky’s birthday.”

“Ha, dude, you should have seen it! He gets all this shit and what’s he doing but playing with the paper!” Faith’s face lights up as she speaks, all the tension just falling away from her. “He kept picking it up and scrunching it and laughing his ass off when we made a ball outta one really big piece. We were throwing it up in the air yelling BADOING! and he was killing himself.”

She pauses while she forks up more of the food Dean’s brought. “I don’t know how I’ve got room for this. I ate so much cake and candy today.”

“I love a girl with an appetite,” smiles Dean.

“Hey, life’s too short to spend it miserable,” she mumbles through the food in her mouth. “Got to the point where we’d just yell Badoing! every so often and he’d start giggling. You know that giggle? Right from the stomach.”

“Yeah, I know that giggle.” Dean leans back in to the comfortable sofa. “Sam’s favourite word was crocodile. He was laughing so much once that he fell off a table in a diner and banged his face. Took a chunk out his nose.” 

“That explains a lot,” snorts Faith, before saying carefully, “We videoed some of it. You want to see it?”

“Sure,” Dean replies, equally carefully. The laptop is on a low table between the room’s two couches, right next to Dean. He sets it on his lap, clicking on the files Faith tells him to. A dark haired, green eyed baby boy reaches up in his crib to the camera, big grin on his face at seeing his Momma, as she coos _Happy Birthday, Ricky! Wanna see your presents?_

Faith scoots closer to Dean until she’s pressed right against him. Her body relaxes into his as she points out who gave Ricky what and silly little things he’s doing. She glances up to Dean as she talks, smiles crinkling her eyes every so often.

It’s hard to believe that this adoring mother is his Faith.

_No_ , he corrects himself. Not _his_ Faith. Most definitely _not_ his Faith. And certainly not his Ricky. Ricky was her baby and everyone else could go shit in a hat.

Even though she’s slid against him so easy and it feels right, like that’s just where she should be. He chances a quick look at Faith and finds she’s out for the count, wrapped up in the blanket.

Dean quickly emails the footage of Ricky to himself before turning the computer off and setting it aside. Faith’s head drops onto his lap and she snuggles into him. Like they’re a real couple. 

He carefully pulls out his wallet, taking a letter from it. The letter has the address of a clinic in Seattle.

_Dear Mr Curran,_

_Re the DNA samples you provided us with on September 4th 2005 - we can confirm that Sample A matches your own sample (Sample B) in the order of 50%._

_This indicates that the donor of Sample A is your biological child._

_If we can be of any further assistance, please contact us._

_Regards,_

_Yagher Clinics_

Dean looks at the letter for a long time as Faith sleeps on his lap. He wishes that he was still talking to Sam; he would have been able to figure this out. But that horse has long since bolted.

That’s the deal breaker for Dean. If he starts up the argument again, he’ll be tossed out of Faith’s life and this time, she might not let him back. Who knows? Her denial of his paternity and their way fucked up relationship might be the only thing that’s kept them alive so far. John wouldn’t have been warning them about November 2nd without good reason.

Dean gives the letter on last look before he scrunches it up and tosses it on the fire. If that’s the price he has to pay for being part of their lives, he’ll pay it and happily. Until the day comes when Faith decides that life’s too short to spend it apart. 

And if she never does, then this will be enough. 

It has to be.


End file.
